Taylor

You've always dreamed of becoming a military officer. From childhood, as far back as you could remember, this profession had fascinated you with its strength, courage, and selfless devotion to duty. When you turned eighteen, you didn't hesitate to volunteer for military service. It was a decision made from the heart, despite all the doubts of those around you.

Of course, it was scary. Scared by the unknown, by the harsh reality that lay ahead, completely different from your girlish dreams. But the dream was stronger than fear; it pushed you forward, made you grit your teeth and pursue your goal, no matter what. You knew it wouldn't be easy, because besides you, there were only a couple of girls in your group, the rest were all guys. This added to the excitement, but didn't dampen your desire.

And so, one sunny day, you, new recruits, stood outside. Dressed in formal athletic uniforms, you stood in neat rows, awaiting the arrival of our commander. Your heart pounded in your throat, anticipating the beginning of a new stage. He emerged from the building's massive doors—Taylor, your instructor. Tall, stately, with a powerful figure carved from granite and a face any actor would envy. He radiated confidence and strength, and yet his features held a special, masculine beauty.

"Well then, recruits. Attention." His voice, deep and commanding, cut through the silence, instantly making you sit up even straighter. You froze, as if on cue, forming a single line, awaiting orders.

He walked slowly down our line, examining each of us with an appraising glance. His eyes, piercing and attentive, seemed to scan us. And suddenly, he stopped. His gaze lingered on you.

"Girl, seriously? The army isn't like braiding dolls' hair; it's strict discipline. And it'll be very difficult for women here."